Red Line

We are going to our second Capitals game of the season later today. Just two of us, so we’re taking the Metro, which I vastly prefer over driving to the game. My husband is a much more aggressive driver than I am (to be fair, almost everyone is) and the ride down Georgia Avenue through jaywalking pedestrians and crazy kids riding in and out of traffic on their bikes and scooters and skateboards and people randomly flinging open the driver’s side car door without a care in the world is hair-raising on a good day. It’s raining today and it’s Marine Corps Marathon day, so it really will not be a good day on Georgia Avenue or any other main state-named avenue in the District of Columbia, so I’m happy that my husband agreed to take Metro, a quick and easy 20 minute ride on the Red Line from Glenmont to Gallery Place. 

But does that mean that I am not anxious about the trip? LOL, that is hilarious. It’s like you don’t know me at all.  Well, you don’t, but you know what I mean. There’s always something to worry about. There’s always a new source of anxiety. 

You might be thinking that urban crime is my biggest Metro-riding fear, but you would be wrong, and it’s not even close. I’m not cavalier about crime; I know that it’s a real problem But I grew up in Philadelphia in the 70s and 80s and early 90s and have been a crime victim myself - several times, in fact - and so crime is not a fear that keeps me awake at night, because I have been there and done that. The things that keep me awake at night are either a) stupid and trivial or b) vanishingly unlikely to happen or c) genuinely horrible but unknown to me. The unknown is the scariest, especially for people like me who can imagine the worst and then make it even worse through sheer panic. It’s a skill. 

But we’re talking about Metro, and the things that scare me about Metro fall into categories a (What if I drop my phone on the train? What if I leave my jacket on the seat? What if I fall asleep and end up at the wrong stop?) and c (What if the train derails? What if there’s a fire in the station? What if the tunnel floods and we all drown?)

*****

Well it's Tuesday now and we traveled to and from the game without the slightest of hitches. Trains arrived quickly, the ride was smooth and uneventful in both directions, and I came home with everything that I had with me when I left the house, and that’s an accomplishment because I had to carry my wallet and my phone in either my hands or my stupidly shallow pockets thanks to the even stupider handbag embargo at Capital One Arena - but I digress. I didn't get left behind and I didn't leave anyone else behind. And it wouldn't be a big deal if someone had been left behind because we're all grown ups now and no one is going to get lost on the Metro. 

That leaves me with a brand new cause for alarm. It's 745 AM, or 0745 as we say at NSAB and I'm preparing for a very large and important meeting. I expect at least 100 people in person in the lecture hall, and another 150 or so online. There are a lot of moving parts, lots of things that could go wrong. But everything is set up, the technology cooperated, and my speakers are here and ready to go. It'll be fine. 

Well, it totally wasn’t fine, but it was still fine, if you know what I mean. The audio wandered in and out at will, the recording randomly stopped in the middle, and we had to admit online attendees one by one even though we set the meeting up to allow self-admittance with no waiting room. I do love it when Google decides to do its own thing. I find it whimsical. Charmingly quirky, even.  You’re delightful, Google Meet. 

*****

That takes us to Wednesday, also known as today. Today’s worry spiral is actually legitimate. My younger son has COVID - for the very first time - and he’s home recovering. As delightful as it is to have him home, I’d sooner he stay healthy. And I have another meeting tomorrow, which I really should attend in person, but I’d rather not carry the gosh-darn coronavirus into a closed meeting room filled with 40+ military physicians. I don’t want to be a disease vector. I’m going to just stay at home but I’m worried that people will think that I’m attending remotely because I’m just too lazy to attend an 0730 meeting. 

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Ridiculous! I hate 0730 meetings more than I hate pumpkin spice latte, but I show up for those meetings in person, all the time, and no one is going to think that I’m lazy if I work from home for an extra day. My reputation around there is sterling. No one blamed me for the Google Meet fiasco, either; first of all because it wasn’t my fault, and second of all because I work really really hard to do things right and people are inclined to let me slide a little bit when things go awry. That is the upside of being an extremely anxious, overly conscientious people-pleaser. There is always an upside. There’s always a silver lining. 

*****

It’s Thursday now, and my son tested negative this morning. He’s technically not allowed to return to school until Sunday, but his coach is trying to persuade the AD and campus health services to allow him to return tomorrow, pending results of a PCR test, so that he can swim in Saturday’s meet. He won two of his three individual events last week, and swam the eighth-fastest 100 breaststroke time in program history. He’s a point-scorer. He is a mainstay of the team, just one week into his freshman season. 

*****

Friday afternoon. It’s been an extraordinarily long week. My in-office and at-home days were all out of order, and we started the week with August-like weather, and finished with an overnight freeze last night. I was in shorts last Sunday, and this morning, I had to scrape the ice off my windshield. Halloween came and went. “Spooky season” and its accompanying sweaters and jeans and PSL are gone, replaced in a flash with early winter sunsets and Christmas decorations in the grocery store and Christmas carols on the radio as we enter the relentless, no-turning-back run-up to the holiday season. Once again, I’m amazed by people who look forward to the imminent “fall back” time change and its hour of extra sleep in exchange for six months of darkness. It’s not a good trade, people. It’s not a good deal at all. We’re getting ripped off. We should complain.  

*****

And now it’s Sunday. I’ve had the benefit of that much-lauded extra hour of sleep, and it’s all downhill from here. My son did get to swim yesterday and although he didn’t win every time he got in the water, he did come away with two 2nd place finishes and a first place - not bad after a week of COVID and no practice. And I conquered one of my biggest new demons, which is driving on the under-construction and heavily barricaded George Washington Parkway. It was a clear, bright afternoon, with moderate traffic, and I told myself that it would be ridiculous to take the long way just to avoid that four-mile stretch of GW Parkway, so I pulled myself together and drove. And it was fine. I was terrified, but it was fine. It’s hard to drive when you’re holding your breath, but it was fine. My hands are still a little sore from maintaining a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel for the entire drive, but it was fine. My son is fine now, my family and I are all fine, and I’ll battle each new stupid trivial fear and manage each new idiotic panic attack as and when they occur, which will be every minute of every fucking day. The Capitals won last Sunday, and the Marymount swim team won yesterday, and I also went three for three this week. #Winning